


Captured Moments

by thephilosophersapprentice



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Anxiety, Ed has justifiable anxiety, Gen, Medical Examination, Needles, Parental Maes Hughes, Photographs, more alchemy headcanons!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23878966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thephilosophersapprentice/pseuds/thephilosophersapprentice
Summary: Usually, a parent helps a child get to doctor's appointments, teaches them to shave, helps them open their first bank account. The Elrics' biological parents aren't around, but Maes is happy to play the part, as long as he gets to call them his sons.
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Elicia Hughes, Edward Elric & Maes Hughes
Comments: 36
Kudos: 255





	1. Medical Anxiety

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vaire_the_weaver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaire_the_weaver/gifts).



It had been a long day in Investigations, but when had it ever not?

Someone had overfilled the reservoir of the coffee pot, causing it to short out and break. When several of Maes’ coworkers tried to repair it, they discovered that a missing piece of evidence from a case closed eight months back had somehow materialized in the inner workings of the coffee maker. Despite being damp and strongly coffee-scented, the evidence was salvageable, meaning they had had to file the request to reopen the case.

Due diligence was one thing; this, however, was something else. Maes was beginning to question if it was worth it.

Then, Mirkin had played a prank on Sophia that resulted in a bizarre purplish licorice-scented gas hovering in the office, forcing them to open all the windows, some of which lacked screens, meaning that they now had flies to deal with on top of everything else—although the licorice-scented smog had kept the worst of the insects outside. Maybe _now_ they’d listen to the regulations about inadvisable applications of alchemy at Central Command.

Maes almost opened the door directly into the younger Elric brother. “Alphonse!” he exclaimed belatedly. “What brings you here?”

“Ed’s in a meeting with Colonel Mustang,” Alphonse said, shuffling his feet anxiously—one of the slight quirks which served to remind Maes that despite the seven-foot armor, he really was just a kid. “I’m… kind of worried…”

Maes beckoned Alphonse into the office, shutting the door behind them. With extreme caution, Alphonse picked up the newest framed photo from Maes’ desk. Elicia at the park, her hands painted bright blue and purple with chalk, scrawling a red blur onto a stick figure. Alphonse laughed softly. “Ed really made an impression on her, didn’t he?”

“We’ll have to get a photo of all five of us together sometime,” Maes remarked, smiling fondly at the photograph. “I want one of all my boys and girls in the same place.”

Al made a little sound. “You didn’t have to treat us like your family, Lieutenant Colonel,” he said.

Maes shook his head. “No. I did that because I wanted to. Now what’s wrong? Something about Ed?”

Alphonse seemed to relax ever so slightly. “Yes. He’s due for a medical examination soon… I think I need advice. The last one didn’t go so well.”

“A lot of people don’t like doctor’s appointments,” Maes observed. “What, specifically, went wrong last time?”

“Ed… doesn’t like people in his personal space,” Alphonse replied. “He’s never liked it when people who he doesn’t know touched him. Granny Pinako—our neighbor—was the closest thing we had to a doctor in Resembool. Ed’s comfortable around her… not so much around anyone else. Of course Granny is qualified—she’s a surgeon. But they want Ed to go to a doctor here in Central, not go all the way out to Resembool, even if it means Ed terrorizes the entire doctor’s office.” Alphonse sighed audibly, the sound echoing strangely inside the armor. “He’s also terrified of needles.”

It might’ve seemed funny to anyone else—the famous Fullmetal Alchemist, brought down by tiny needles?—but to Maes it was another reminder that Edward was really just a kid, no matter how much he tried to be an adult for Alphonse. Just a kid, acting as Al’s emotional and spiritual shield just as Al acted as Ed’s physical one.

“When’s the appointment?” Maes asked, mentally going over his schedule. Maybe if he squeezed around scheduled call-and-catch-up-with-Roy-and-exchange-coded-intel time, he could fit Ed’s doctor appointment in.

“Next week, on Tuesday, at nine in the morning. He wanted to get it over with but couldn’t get in any sooner,” Al replied.

“I can go with him.” It would cut into paperwork time, he’d have to hurry to finish, but at least there were no hearings to which he’d have to deliver evidence scheduled that day.

Alphonse jumped slightly. “Lieutenant Colonel? What about work?”

“I’ll shuffle it around. I’ve been putting in enough overtime; they owe me this much.”

“I didn’t know someone who wasn’t your guardian or family could go with,” Al stammered.

“It’s the patient’s say,” Maes reminded him, smiling at the kid in the armor. “If Ed says he wants me there, I can go with him all the way into the exam room and he won’t have to be alone with a doctor for a second.”

“I—thank you!” Al exclaimed, twisting his fingers together. “Thank you so much! I’ll let Ed know you plan to pick him up.”

“Don’t let him talk you into thinking he doesn’t need an escort,” Maes said. “He might not need one, sure, but having one will certainly help.”

Al relaxed. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant Colonel.” There was a smile in his voice. “I know how to handle my big brother. He’s a handful, but I’ve known him all my life, and that’s got to count for something.”

Sometimes, in remembering that Alphonse was a kid, Maes forgot that he was a kid with a steel backbone—in or out of the armor. “Once we’re done with the appointment, let’s take a picture with the full family, and we’ll call it even.”

Al smiled in relief. “Deal.”

* * *

Maes was at the door of the Elrics’ dorm at 8:15 on Tuesday. Despite the time and Edward’s infamous reputation (Maes had heard more than a few rants from Roy on Edward’s inability to be at meetings on time), Edward opened the door before he knocked, hair still damp and clinging slightly in messy strands but already tightly braided. Edward’s lips were pressed together tightly. Maes could only interpret it as nervousness.

“Hey, Ed. You look tense.”

Edward shrugged, mouth pulling down in displeasure. “Big fuss over something unimportant. I’m healthy enough to go in the field. That’s all they need to know.” A faint trace of Edward’s east country accent broke through the mask of his assumed Central accent. Maes found it endearing, although it sickened him to know that Ed had probably adopted the Central accent in order to be taken seriously.

The brass were such snobs, it was disgusting.

Maes turned away from the door, confident Ed would follow. “Which doctor?”

“Carlisle,” Ed mumbled.

“I’ll drive you there.”

* * *

The drive was mostly uneventful. Morning traffic was about average, but Maes was used to that and navigated side and back streets as easily as the main thoroughfares.

“I thought you might want to know that if you want someone with you for the appointment, you absolutely can,” Maes said. “Never mind seeming like an adult. It might help.”

“Al told you about my thing about doctors, didn’t he?” Edward grumbled.

“It’s okay to feel uncomfortable with that sort of close contact, you know.”

Ed sighed, settling deeper into the backseat and crossing his arms. “Yeah. Sure.”

Hughes pulled over, twisting in his seat. “Ed. What’s really going on?”

Uncharacteristically, Ed’s words came so quiet he almost missed them. “All the doctors we called, who came to consult— _none_ of them could help Mom. She just…” Ed inhaled sharply through his nose, blinking his eyes several times rapidly. “No matter how many we called, who left without pay because they pitied us. It didn’t stop her fading away. If they couldn’t save Mom, what’s the point?”

“There is one flaw in your thesis, Ed.” Maybe if he used the right jargon, Ed wouldn’t dismiss it out of hand. “What about the people who they _do_ save? What about the problems they _can_ help with?”

“What if I go one day and turn out to have the same thing Mom did? Maybe it’s better not to know than to waste time on hope.”

Maes was speechless. No teenager should embrace such a nihilistic view. But then, Ed was no average teen. Witness to things Maes couldn’t hope to understand or comprehend; alchemist; military dog starting at the age of twelve.

“Tell me, Ed… how can I convince you that hope isn’t a waste of time?”

The silence stretched, dragging painfully.

“Sorry,” Ed murmured at last.

“It’s worth finding out if you _don’t_ have whatever it is your mother had, isn’t it?”

“That’s irrelevant right now. I’m completely healthy.”

Maes sighed. “Yes, but they have ways of finding out things before they become problems. These checkups exist to keep you from getting sick.”

“I know how vaccines work,” Ed mumbled.

“It’s just the delivery system that bothers you, isn’t it?”

“Let’s just go before we’re late.”

Maes turned on his turn signal and pulled back into traffic. “We won’t be late.”

“I’m pretty sure using defensive driving techniques during rush hour is called ‘abusing your privileges.’”

“God, you and Mustang are a perfect match,” Maes remarked.

Ed jumped upright in his seat—thankfully, still wearing his belt. Maes checked in the rearview mirror—“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re both insufferable brats,” Maes told him, straight-faced.

“Hmph. Him, maybe. I’m a perfectly normal human being.”

In the rearview mirror, Maes looked him over—paying all due attention to the road as well, of course.

Edward Elric was many things, but “normal,” “average” and “usual” were three he was not. Between the automail, the unusual eye color, the intellect—he was most certainly _not_ average. Except for the fact that he breathed air and needed food and water and sleep, there was nothing usual about him.

“You should remind yourself that you’re a human being more often,” Maes advised.

Edward was silent until they arrived. The doctor’s office was in a row building, and Maes would have to park on the street. Central had grown and built on what space there was; few buildings were up-to-date enough or spaced enough to have lots to park in—Central Command was one of those rare few, and even then the lots were used mostly for the cars of generals. In fact, it hadn’t been so very long since Central’s streets had been muddy and unpaved except for odd stretches of flags…

“We’re here.” Maes got out of the car, Edward following suit. They went inside, checked the suite number, and headed up.

Maes held back, letting Edward talk to the receptionist. He seemed calm, but Maes knew that Edward was perfectly capable of faking calm. They then sat down to wait.

“What.” The word came out flat and toneless, but had to be forced out between Edward’s teeth.

“I didn’t say anything,” Maes said gently. “But I can’t help but notice you’re stressed.”

“This is time I could’ve spent at a library,” Edward growled. “Of course I’m stressed.”

Maes hummed softly under his breath, letting the silence draw out. It was an interrogation technique, but if Ed really didn’t want to say anything he’d let the silence continue, let the conversation end.

“If you must know,” Edward said at last, “it’s the smell.”

Maes inhaled through his nose. “The disinfectant?”

“And this damn _carpet_.” Edward stamped down lightly at the rough, short pile. “Always smells like this. Wood’s better. Wood doesn’t smell like… like that awful artificial fertilizer they make. Manure’s unpleasant, sure, but at least it’s not _dishonest_.”

“I suppose I never really thought about it before,” Maes commented. He’d assumed that Edward’s country upbringing really didn’t impact him that much, but it seemed that in fact, it _did_. The accent should have been his first clue. “What else is different between the city and country?”

Edward shrugged. “The pace’s different. People live to a different… rhythm. Back home, everyone knows everyone. In Central, people avoid so much as making eye contact by accident and come up with all sorts of excuses not to talk to people. I guess they just want to interact with the people who they know best, but…” The words petered out, Edward staring into the distance, as though he could see through the far wall with its calming floral and oceanic landscapes.

“Do you miss it?” Maes asked curiously.

Edward remained silent, but nodded. “We don’t have a library in Resembool, though,” he said after a short pause.

He wasn’t really here by choice, but by necessity. He wasn’t here because he wanted to see the world. He had come for a purpose and he wouldn’t be able to go home until he had fulfilled it.

How many years had it been, now?

Maes knew better than to bring that up in front of Ed.

He was distracted from the thoughts of what to talk about next by a nurse opening the door at the back of the room and calling, “Edward?”

Edward stood up. The nurse blinked, checked his notes, then looked back to Ed. Maes stood as well. “Do you want me to come with you, Edward?” He put his hand gently on the boy’s shoulder.

Edward nodded. “Yes, please.”

The gesture of trust sent a warm wave to Maes’ heart. They went into the inner office, following the nurse. Edward had the papers with the base technical specifications of his current automail in hand and handed them over to the nurse. He gestured Edward to the scale and measured his weight and height (still small for his age, unfortunately, Maes noted). “Dr. Carlisle will be with you in a few minutes,” the nurse said, before leaving them alone.

Edward hung up his coat on the rack, taking a notebook and pen from the pocket with him to the examination table, where he sat to wait. He uncapped the pen and twirled it absently between his fingers as he read from the notebook, adding a few notations here and there. Maes checked the clock.

They hadn’t been waiting for very long—perhaps ten minutes—when Dr. Carlisle came in. He was an older man with grizzled brown hair, a neat, closely-clipped beard, and piercing dark eyes. “Major Elric?” the doctor asked, before glancing around the room in confusion. Edward stood up in response. The doctor checked his clipboard again, to Edward’s obvious irritation. “I beg your pardon,” the doctor said. “I made a few assumptions that were completely wrong.”

Edward sighed, shrugging. “Can’t really blame you,” he said, his country accent creeping into his words.

“Before we begin with the checkup proper, I have a few questions about your medical history.”

Edward scooted back onto the exam table. “Ask away.”

“I don’t have any of your childhood medical records or records of your immunizations. The most recent records I have are from a Dr. Spence, starting in 1911.”

“There should be copies of them that got transferred over to Dr. Spence… didn’t he transfer them to your office when he retired?” Edward asked.

“It doesn’t appear so, no.”

Edward sighed. “I can call my childhood doctor in Resembool, but they don’t have a scribe so it may take a few weeks to get copies of those records. All my immunizations before I turned twelve should be up to date for the standards at that time. I’m not sure if there are new immunization schedules now or not.”

“There have been a few new vaccines developed, but it looks like Dr. Spence took care of those during your regular appointments. Your last appointment was just over eighteen months ago, was it not?”

Ed frowned. “Has it really been that long?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly abashed. “I travel around a lot. It’s easy to lose track of regular, infrequent things like that…”

“No harm done,” Dr. Carlisle said, gesturing to Edward to take off his jacket. Edward obeyed. The doctor spent the next few minutes in checking the scarring around Edward’s automail connection points for any sign of infection or irritation. The scars looked awful to Maes, but from the doctor’s reaction there was nothing wrong with either Ed’s shoulder or leg.

“Do you get phantom pain and if so, how badly and how frequently?” Dr. Carlisle asked, sitting up straight in his chair again.

Edward took a deep breath, clearly trying to sound adult. “I’d prefer to discuss that with my automail specialist instead.”

“I may be able to offer more immediate help in managing that pain than your automail specialist, Major,” Dr. Carlisle said, perfectly calm and even.

Edward glanced to Maes.

“It’s your decision, Ed,” Maes told him.

Ed exhaled, looking carefully at Dr. Carlisle. “I don’t get true phantom sensations very often and then it’s more like an itch or tingling than like pain. But changes in the weather—if it gets too hot, if it’s raining, when it’s cold and windy—they make my stumps ache. Overexertion will do it, too, but I keep up with my physical therapy so it doesn’t happen often. Maybe once or twice a year, I’ll have a bad day with no discernable outside cause.”

“How bad are your bad days?” Dr. Carlisle asked.

Ed shrugged. “Not bad enough to keep me from going about my day, most of the time. Maybe once or twice a year it’ll hurt enough that I can’t stay focused on one task.”

“I see. The resilience of youth, eh?” the doctor laughed. “I’m afraid there’s not much that I can do about the serious days but recommend you rest and use a warm compress, but I can get you a prescription for those not-quite-so-bad days. Anything we can do to make your life a bit less uncomfortable, right?”

“ _Not_ an opioid,” Edward stressed. Maes watched him, slightly startled by his vehemence. Edward calmed himself down and said “I got the automail surgery when I was eleven. Between the drugs after the procedure and complications, Gr—my automail specialist—didn’t want to risk it unless it was absolutely necessary.”

“Noted,” Dr. Carlisle said. “If you think the risk is relatively low, I can prescribe codeine, but if not, over-the-counter aspirin will give you some relief.”

Edward tilted his head back, closing his eyes momentarily to think about it. “Maybe the codeine for in case it gets really bad and I absolutely have to keep going?”

“Of course. You can also consult with your specialist first and see what they say—if you call my office and ask for me, I can still write you a prescription as long as it’s within two weeks of today.”

“Okay. I’ll do that then.”

Dr. Carlisle retrieved his stethoscope, gesturing to Ed to remove his shirt. Edward did so. Dr. Carlisle rubbed the membrane on his palm to warm it. “No one cares for a cold piece of metal and plastic on their backs.” The doctor placed the earpieces in his ears and the drum against the left side of Edward’s chest. He repeated the action on Edward’s back to listen to his lungs, then took the earpieces out of his ears. “I honestly don’t think you have anything to worry about apart from boyish scrapes, Edward.” the doctor teased. Ed wrinkled his nose; Maes chuckled.

Dr. Carlisle continued to go down the checklist from checking Edward’s ears and in his mouth, pupil reaction, reflexes, and the thousand other mysteries of a normal checkup. Finally he set aside his instruments. “I only have one concern.”

“Don’t say it,” Ed mumbled.

“Have you ever heard of a condition called ‘failure to thrive’?” Dr. Carlisle asked.

“That sounds like word salad,” Edward retorted. “I probably wouldn’t remember if I had heard of it.”

“Fair enough. It’s a condition characterized by a lack of growth and weight gain that doesn’t match up with what’s normal for the age group.”

Ed flinched visibly, grimacing.

“It’s not your fault,” Dr. Carlisle informed him. “There are a variety of possible factors that might cause it. A stressful situation, for instance, or insufficient nutrition. It can also be a family disorder, or caused by chronic issues with breathing, or anemia. Have you ever felt lightheaded, or been told you snore?”

Edward shook his head.

“If it was anemia, I’d expect it to be caught when you were in the recovery process from the automail surgery, but of course it could be a new-occurring condition. If you ever feel lightheaded, make an appointment and we can test for anemia. Is it—failure to thrive—a family issue that you know of?”

“I don’t know much about my family’s medical history,” Edward told him. “As far as I know, we don’t have any extended family, and my mother died when I was five. My brother’s always been taller than me, ever since I was… six or seven, maybe?” Ed grimaced at the mention of Al’s height. It was only Maes’ military training that allowed him to suppress the amused smile that teased at the corners of his mouth. Poor kid. It obviously went against his pride.

“Did your mother die of some preexisting condition?”

“It was the 1904 epidemic,” Edward said stiffly.

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry to hear about that, lad.” The doctor patted Ed’s shoulder and Ed nodded, averting his face.

“You seem to be generally healthy, so I’m assuming—” Dr. Carlisle very deliberately didn’t look at Maes—“that it’s stress-related.”

“I can’t really change that,” Edward protested.

“Maybe not, but there are some ways you can control how it hits you. You can try taking walks in a park or in the countryside, or listening to music, or regulating your breathing.”

Maes was already planning picnics for the next few weekends. Did Ed and Al like to listen to the orchestra? He’d have to ask later. Ed didn’t seem like he’d be the type to enjoy it, but Maes was finding that Amestris’ youngest state alchemist was full of surprises.

“I’ll try,” Edward said.

“If you try to make your mealtimes more regular, that might help as well. Eat when you’re hungry.”

Edward nodded.

“Now, the brass wants to test out influenza vaccines; they requested that every member of the military receive the vaccine. I don’t currently need any bloodwork, just the shots for influenza and the tetanus booster.”

Ed’s shoulders were tense. “Is this a new thing?”

“Well, relatively new,” Dr. Carlisle said. “They’ve been working on these for a couple of decades, particularly the influenza vaccine. It’s had mixed success, but it can’t hurt, can it? You’re a busy young man with places to visit, things to do. Being sick when it could’ve been prevented would just be a waste of time, would it not?”

Ed sighed. Too little, too late; these things always came _after_ they were needed, Maes thought. The doctor prepared a syringe. Edward winced at the sight of it, averting his eyes. Instead, he looked pleadingly at Maes, as if to say _Please don’t make me do this_.

Maes reached for his automail hand. “Just look at me. You don’t have to look anywhere else.” Edward raised both eyebrows at him in a world-weary expression. Doctor Carlisle swabbed rubbing alcohol into the crook of Edward’s arm.

Edward closed his eyes, biting his lip. Under his breath, he mumbled, “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium…”

“All done,” Dr. Carlisle said.

Ed cracked open one eye. “Wait, really?”

The doctor taped cotton down over the injection sites on Edward’s flesh arm. “Yes.”

Edward let out a long huff of air, shoulders slumping. Dr. Carlisle patted his shoulder sympathetically. “No one much likes the needles, but you probably have more reasons to dislike them than most.”

Edward nodded, his lips pressed close together. He pulled his jacket and gloves back on, retrieving his coat. “When should I come in next?” he asked. “I’ll try to remember, but I don’t always look at the calendar.”

“Six months from now,” Dr. Carlisle said. “You can always reserve the appointment now and call if you can’t make it. Don’t forget to call me for a prescription if your mechanic approves the codeine.”

“Will do,” Edward replied. He glanced to Maes.

“Coming,” Maes said.

They stopped by the receptionist’s desk so that Ed could make the appointment, then left.

“Do you have anything that urgently needs doing today?” Maes asked as they exited the building into the clear spring air.

“Uh… no, not really,” Edward said after a momentary pause. “But there’s research and books that I should probably return to the First Branch before Sheska starts to worry—”

“You can do that this afternoon. I know just the thing,” Maes said cheerfully, gently steering Edward toward the car. “Ice cream.”

“I’m not four, Lieutenant Colonel,” Edward grumbled.

“You’ll be less stressed about it next time if we do something pleasant afterwards,” Maes said, opening the door for Ed before going round to his side of the car. He got into the driver’s seat and closed the door. “It’s called psychology. Besides, my darling Elicia says ice cream makes everything better, and she is a sagacious young lady of infinite wisdom.”

Edward half-smiled, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the passenger’s seat. He was barely tall enough to sit there, but Maes wasn’t about to annoy him by pointing that out. Ed was considered an emancipated minor and Maes was an excellent driver.

“Who am I to argue with Miss Elicia?” Edward said, still smiling slightly. “The only issue I can see is that she won’t be there to get ice cream with us.”

“She’ll understand,” Maes said. “She is also a young lady of great compassion.”

Edward laughed, though he seemed more subdued than normal.

“You’re normally more… boisterous than this,” Maes said, checking his mirrors before pulling out into the street.

Edward sighed, leaning his forehead against the glass of the window. “It’s easy to be loud around Mustang,” he admitted. “I don’t… particularly like strangers. Particularly strangers who could pull me from the field, boss me around… people who either underestimate me for my age or only see what I could do for them without even thinking about the fact that I’m a human being too…”

“I did notice you chose to come back to Dr. Carlisle, though.” Hughes noted.

“He’s not so bad,” Edward said. “He still kind of treated me like a kid, but he’s much better than some of the military doctors I’ve had to go to.”

“If you want to make a complaint,” Maes said, “I can help you file it.”

Ed shrugged. “I can handle a few idiots,” he said, still staring out the window, watching the tall, narrow buildings go past. “Besides, even if I wanted to, I can’t even remember their names now.”

“It sounds as if you’ve been having the same problems with the brass, too,” Maes observed.

Ed sighed. “They’re the guys on top. They know how hard it is to come after them with a complaint; it’s basically career suicide.”

“If I can offer you some advice,” Maes said. “It’s easier to deal with them when you’ve got someone who has your back.”

“That’s what you do for Mustang, isn’t it?” Ed commented.

“He does for me as well, from time to time. It’s harder for you—you don’t have your own team.” Maes smirked at the youngest state alchemist. “Maybe you should get one.”

“It would defeat the whole purpose of… me.” Edward sighed, rolling his neck to an audible _pop_. “My best bet is to stay out in the field as much as possible and avoid old men who think I’m a marionette they can just puppet around.”

Maes pulled into the parking lot of the ice cream parlor. “If you’re ever having trouble,” he said, delicately, “I want to know about it. There’s more than one way to handle people with way too much power who are being terrible to you, you know. Then, too, you are the Fuhrer’s favorite.”

“Teacher’s pet?” Edward snorted. “I don’t want his patronage.”

“I think it’s your bluntness he likes,” Maes teased. “Anyway, if you brought it to his attention—subtly, of course—that certain officers think they can use you as a stepping stone—I’m sure he’d ensure that they knew just how much he’d frown on that.”

“Maybe.” Edward stared out the window blankly. “I’ve never been teacher’s pet in my life and I’m proud of that.”

Maes smacked him lightly across the back of the head. “Don’t go making unnecessary trouble for yourself,” he warned.

Edward rubbed the back of his head, ruefully, even though Maes knew he’d barely even touched Edward’s hair. “Warning noted, dad.”

Even though it was meant sarcastically, the parental epithet sent a wave of warmth through Maes’ chest. “Let’s get our ice cream, shall we?”

* * *

In the end, they both got dark chocolate ice cream and sat in the veranda to eat it.

“Would’ve thought you had more of a sweet tooth,” Edward commented, licking the back of his spoon and eyeing Maes’ matching confection. “Or maybe more adult tastes.”

“So I can’t be in the middle, or both?” Maes teased. Edward rolled his eyes. “I see you got something that would cover up the taste of the milk,” Maes continued.

“It’s not just the taste that bothers me,” Ed mumbled. “It’s the texture. And I don’t like how raspy it makes me after. Ice cream’s nice, sure. But not nice enough to risk that on a regular basis.”

“I see.” Maes made a mental note of the intelligence.

“Anyway…” Edward licked the back of his spoon. “Thanks for coming with me today. It did help, more than I thought it would.”

Maes reached across and ruffled up his bangs. “It was no problem,” he said.

Edward huffed at him in annoyance, combing his fingers through his bangs to straighten them. He really did take some pains with his appearance.

“Anyway,” Maes continued. “I’m always available if you ever need help with this sort of thing—or just adult things in general. I’m sure Roy is willing to help too, but he doesn’t have a father’s touch, does he?”

Edward snorted in amusement.

“You might not need help,” Hughes pressed, “but you can always ask for it anyway. You know that, don’t you?”

Edward nodded slowly. “I know. I just don’t think to ask.”

“Hm.” Maes stared out at the busy street, watching the people both in and out of uniform come and go, all bent on their own private errands. “In that case, I’ll do my best to step in when you need it, even if you forget to ask.”


	2. Preparations for the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed asks Maes for help again--this time, with opening a bank account.

There was never a truly quiet day in Central Command, and especially not in Investigations, but the Elrics were gone again on another journey or mission (Maes wasn’t clear which), so Central was quiet for a few weeks after that. Maes had almost forgotten what it had been like to get swept up in an Elric whirlwind by the time he next ran into Edward.

Or, more accurately, nearly ran into one of the secretaries gathered around the young alchemist in an attentive knot.

Edward was crouched on the floor, carefully examining the interiors of a smashed telephone casing. “I’ve never done this before,” he told them. “I’ve done it with radios but never with something quite like this… It might not work when I’m done. Here goes.”

There was a hum and crackle of energy in the air and a flash of light. Edward picked up the (hopefully) repaired phone and set it back on General Raven’s secretary’s desk. “You might want to pick up and see if you can get the operator. If not, then… probably you’ll have to requisition another one. Sorry.”

The secretary nodded, ensured the phone was connected properly and picked up the phone, dialing the operator. Everyone waited for a few seconds in complete silence. Then Raven’s secretary said “Thank you, I just needed to make sure the phone was connected. Goodbye.” She turned to Edward. “Good news! It works.”

Ed gave a sigh of relieved gratitude. “Thanks. Good to know I didn’t screw it up.” He gently lifted the phone cord. “I noticed you’ve got a lot of cords kind of held together. You’d probably have less noise and distortion on the line if you separated them by a few inches and moved them up the wall so no one trips on them.”

The secretary sighed. “Wish I could, but they don’t have the budget for that.”

Edward ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

“You’re not the one who decides these things,” another secretary told him, ruffling up his hair. Ed tried to duck away from her hand, but he was smiling as he did. “Thanks again, Ed.”

“Anything else that needs doing?” Edward asked. “Even if it’s something little that’s just annoying.”

“Not unless you know how to fix broken fingernails,” one of the ladies piped up. The rest of the group flinched sympathetically.

Edward laughed. “That would be the day,” he said.

“None of us remember anything right now,” an older woman laughed. “That’s how it is. By this evening, we’ll have a full list of little things that need repairs.”

“And they’ll be ones you’ve been staring at for months,” Edward replied. “And wanting to do but keep putting off or forgetting.”

“You too?” asked Raven’s secretary.

Edward laughed ruefully. “There’s a rip in the lining of my suitcase that I’ve been meaning to fix for a couple of months now.”

The group of secretaries and orderlies laughed and began to disperse. Maes made his way through the loosening throng toward the young alchemist.

“Edward, there you are,” Maes greeted. Edward jumped at the sudden call, eyes brightening in a way he probably wasn’t even aware of, a slight welcoming smile crossing his face. “I was wondering where you were,” Maes continued.

“What was that all about?” Maes asked.

Ed shrugged slightly. “A sergeant bumped into Miranda’s phone and knocked it off and broke it without noticing. They wanted to see if I could help before requisitioning a new one.”

“It looks like a job well done to me,” Maes complimented.

Edward blushed slightly, shrugging. “All it takes is fifteen seconds of my day. Jan wanted to be an alchemist but couldn’t afford to go to school for it, so she and I talk theory sometimes. It’s sad she didn’t have the money for school or an apprenticeship, because the way her mind works? She would’ve been one of the best. I try to help her out however I can, but it’s not like I can just offer her a single textbook. If you want to be a really good alchemist you need a lot of sources—the textbooks are too basic and some of the information in them is decades out of date. The best I can do right now is send her to Sheska with recommendations on geology and chemistry and references on drafting transmutation circles.”

Maes smiled. “That’s really kind of you.”

Edward shrugged. “I’ve been thinking about teaching a lot lately. Maybe one day I’ll actually take an apprentice—once Al and I are settled down. Of course they’d have to work hard, but…” He trailed off. “Anyway, all I can do right now is help Jan as much as I can and answer her questions whenever I get a chance.”

“What a coincidence. I had an alchemy question myself,” Maes said jovially, sliding an arm behind Edward’s shoulders and guiding him in the direction of his office. “We’ve been finding transmutation marks around the sites of breaking-and-entering crime scenes, but we can’t quite work out if they’re related or what the alchemist is even trying to _do_.”

“Have you found any evidence of chalk or circles?” Ed asked, brows furrowed and leaning in closer, his interest obviously piqued.

“Not that we’ve been able to see, but you’d probably know better what to look for than we do,” Hughes said. “I always think we needed a couple more alchemists on staff in Investigations to help us out, and then I never remember to bring it up. I have Armstrong, of course, but he has his own duties as well.”

“If that’s an oblique way of asking me to come work for you,” Edward laughed, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to decline. I have my own reasons for staying with Mustang’s team; I’m not near ready to settle down in one place just yet.”

“And yet you’re here in Central every so often,” Maes countered.

“Only because they have the best-stocked library here,” Ed retorted. “Do you have the crime scene photos handy? Al’s volunteering at the shelter today, and I had a few things I needed to get done here at HQ, but those can wait.”

“They’re right in my office,” Maes replied. “This way.”

* * *

Arriving at his office, Maes picked up the manila folder full of crime scene photographs and spread them out across the desk for Edward’s perusal. The alchemist leaned forward and examined the photographs closely, both hands propping his weight on the edge of Maes’ desk. “It looks almost as if this alchemist was trying to cover up the evidence of the breaking and entering,” Edward mused. “Though if that’s what they _were_ trying to do, I think they messed up several arcs on the reconstruction array. A half-decent alchemist wouldn’t leave behind all these transmutation marks. They didn’t even fully fix the shattered timber here—that’s just waiting on a good gust of wind or someone stomping around to fall apart.”

“So either the thief was hoping to increase his lead and throw us off the scent by removing the evidence of the break-ins…” Maes said.

“Or someone, probably family or a significant other, was following them around trying to keep them from getting caught,” Edward concluded.

“It’s almost frightening how much sense you make.” Maes was already thinking about the potential complications if there was a second person involved in the robberies.

Edward replied with a silent shrug and a sad half-smile.

_Not many fourteen-year-old boys have had those sorts of experiences, though._

“I’m actually really glad I ran into you today,” Edward said, his amber eyes dropping to examine the wood grain patterns on Maes’ desk. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a while now, but I kept putting it off… I don’t know how, for one thing, and I don’t want to ask Mustang. He’d probably just laugh at me.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t,” Maes interrupted.

“Don’t get me wrong.” Edward tugged at his fingers absent-mindedly. “He’d help as best he could, but he’d still laugh.”

“What was it you wanted to do?”

Edward shifted from his left foot to his right. “I’ve been meaning to open an account for Alphonse in the bank. In case he wants to go to school, after… or if something happens to me.” Edward turned away to hide his expression.

“Sure, I can help you with that,” Maes said, his voice subdued but sincere. “When we close up for the day, I’ll go to the bank with you.”

* * *

Maes often chose to walk to work. Driving could be a hassle in crowded Central. It hadn’t been the same back where his parents had lived, west of the capital but close enough to it not to be countryfied. In Thetis, it had been easy enough to get around, even during rush hour. However, at Central…

Maes steered Edward carefully out the door and in the direction of the bank. “It’s probably for the best you decided to do this here—since this is the main branch of the bank, it’ll be easier to get things set up.” Edward nodded.

“Did Al mention he was interested in school?”

Ed grimaced, shrugging his shoulders. “No, he didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t. But… I do get the feeling he wishes he could do normal kid stuff. And he’s always been more open to stuff outside alchemy than me. I bet he wishes he could go back to school somewhere.”

“What about you?”

“Me?” Edward half-turned toward Maes, his brows drawn together in a frown of confusion.

“When you’ve done what you set out to do, whatever that was. Do you want to go back to school?”

Ed huffed out a laugh. “Hell no. I don’t want to be stuck behind a desk listening to some teacher who doesn’t know me. If I can skip straight to the good stuff, maybe. I want to be a researcher, but I don’t want to be a student in the regular capacity. Who knows? I might go back to my apprenticeship for a year or two, assuming Master Izumi is willing to take me back. I think I want to continue knowing her as an adult.”

“Your alchemy teacher?” Maes guessed.

Edward nodded. “She did her best with us. Not that there was much there to salvage, in my case at least. Maybe with Al.” He cackled briefly, then turned solemn. “I’ve never come across even mentions of some of the concepts she taught us anywhere else… I never really appreciated that she was passing her research and hard work on to us until I started doing research of my own. Of course she made us work for it, but… Master Izumi is amazing. And I didn’t really understand that until recently.” The kid’s voice was rueful.

“Why not go see her when you’re on leave?”

Edward’s brows drew together, his jaw clenched in determination. “I can’t. Not until I’m done with this, not until I’ve fixed the mess I made.”

“What mess?” Maes asked.

Edward shook his head. “That’s between me and Al.” He kicked at a crack in the sidewalk. “Everyone’s got their reasons for being in the military. Havoc, Breda, Fuery, Falman—they’re all there because of Mustang. Hawkeye won’t say, but she is too. I’m not blind. She joined up to watch his back. You joined up to protect people, but you stay for him too.”

“I should warn Roy,” Maes said, half-joking. “You’re a lot more perceptive than anyone gives you credit for.”

Edward’s smile was self-recriminating. “Yeah, I see a lot more than I say. Keeps Al safe. Keeps him from worrying. I know how to keep my mouth shut and how to keep people from noticing that I see their secrets.” He mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key away.

“That’s all anyone in the military has,” Maes murmured. “Secrets.”

Ed smirked, corners of his mouth lifting for a second before he returned to the previous topic. “My reason for joining the military is for Al. I’ll help Mustang all I can, but someday I’m going to finish what I started, and then I’m going to resign because I did what I joined to do.”

“Good,” Maes said, a little more forcefully than he’d intended. “Observant or not, genius or not, and no matter how you act, you’re still a kid, Ed. You shouldn’t have to worry about all these secrets and plots and politics.”

Edward shrugged. “It can’t be helped.” He sighed. “Maybe if I was older, if I’d seen what you all did… maybe then I’d stay on and help Mustang. But I’ve still got my own life. I know that sounds selfish—”

“As someone who’s read your mission reports, anyone who calls you selfish is blind in both eyes and lacks the sense that god gave ants,” Maes retorted.

“Thanks, but I still feel like it’s selfish.”

Maes ruffled up Edward’s bangs. “That’s how you know you’re not.”

Ed glared at him, dragging his fingers through his bangs to get them to lie flat again. “Will you stop interrupting me?!”

“So that’s what _really_ gets to you about Mustang,” Maes crowed. “He’s always got to get the last word!”

Edward glared at the sidewalk, face flushed from annoyance and mumbling under his breath.

“You two are alike in more ways than one.”

Edward choked on his own breath. “You—you—!”

Maes cackled at his expression. “We’re here.”

Edward gave his bangs one last comb-through with his fingers as he followed Maes up the steps. They got into line, falling silent by instinct—now they were somewhere with dozens of other (bored) people who would undoubtedly overhear whether they wanted to or not. With nothing else to do, anything they said here would be taken with undue weight.

At last they made it to the front of the queue. The hassled-looking teller barely gave them a second glance—the boy in all black except for the red coat, and the man in the Amestrian military uniform. “What can I help you with today?” she said, her voice unnaturally—even disturbingly—bright and fake. There was nothing wrong, of course—Maes remembered that tone. He’d learned it in his first job at the general store in Thetis. Maes glanced at Edward and nodded toward the teller.

“I’d like to open an account, Ma’am,” Edward said firmly.

A warm, genuine smile broke through the sugary-sweet façade. “Your first account? Congratulations!”

Edward shifted slightly without breaking eye contact. “Um… no, actually. It’s for my brother.” He swallowed, took a deep breath. “He’s my dependent, and I’m hoping to set up an account he can access on his own when he needs to, whether or not I’m there. In case he wants to go to university someday, or something.”

“Oh! I can definitely help you set that up,” the woman said, opening a drawer and pulling out several forms and a pen. “First of all, I’m going to need some form of identification.”

Edward reached into his pocket and pulled out the ID from his pocketbook, sliding out his pocket watch as well but holding it back as the woman began to copy the information from the card onto a form.

“Can I get your current address as well?”

“The best way to reach us is to send our mail to Colonel Mustang’s office,” Edward said. “I’m currently living in military housing, but I travel a lot in the course of my duties, and Al always travels with me.” He bit his lip. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not!” the teller reassured him. “We handle state alchemists’ accounts, there’s no reason why minor irregularities like that would be an issue.”

Edward sighed in relief.

“What’s your brother’s name, dear?”

“His name is Alphonse Elric.”

The teller made note of that. “And his date of birth?”

“April 20, 1900. How do I set this up so that he can access the account even in the event of my death?”

The teller flinched slightly at that. “It’s already under his name, so all he has to do is come in with an ID of his own. It will be even easier if he has a copy of the form I’m filling out right now. You may want to leave it with a trusted friend, if you’re concerned about… that.”

“I can put it in our safe at home, if you’d like,” Maes volunteered.

Edward nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

“How much would you like to transfer into the new account?” the woman at the desk asked.

“To begin with…” Ed thought it over hurriedly. “5000 cens, for now.”

The woman wrote down the amount and tore off the top sheet from her paper. “Done. I’ll just file this and then the account will be active. It will be available for use in five to seven business days.” She handed the carbon copy to Edward. “Thank you for your business.”

“Thank you,” Edward replied. He made a slight bow, unintentionally charming the teller, and followed Maes out of line. They headed back toward the front doors of the bank, then outside onto the steps.

“While you’re out here, why not come to dinner with Gracia and Elicia? We can pick up Al from the shelter and then head home.”

Ed froze up for a moment there on the sidewalk. “I… uh… we wouldn’t want to impose,” he stammered.

“Nonsense. Elicia adores the two of you. She calls you her big brothers. Besides, I don’t often get home from work this early, and you helped me out. The least I can do is treat you to dinner.” Maes grinned.

“They understaff you that bad, huh?” Ed countered. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking. “Okay… if you’re sure.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.” Maes clapped Edward’s shoulders and guided him out of the main path of foot traffic. “Which shelter is Al volunteering at?”

“The one on Sixth Street,” Edward replied.

“A little out of our way, but no problem,” Maes said, turning in that direction. It would be a longer walk than usual, but the exercise couldn’t possibly hurt. Edward kept pace with him the full way.

Al was waiting outside when they arrived. “Hey!” He waved them down the block. “I was expecting you an hour ago, Ed! Did something happen?”

Maes chuckled at Al’s tone. “Out of the two of you, I’d honestly have expected Al to be the elder,” he laughed.

Ed wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He turned to Al. “Nah, I was just with the Lieutenant Colonel, we got caught up talking. I might end up helping him out on an investigation, so.”

“Is it the sort of thing I can help with, or—?” Al asked.

“I don’t see a problem,” Edward replied. He half-turned toward Maes.

“No, that’s fine.” Maes sighed. “Honestly, the military gets more than their money’s worth for the two of you. Both of you should be on-salary, with the amount of work Al does with you.”

“Yeah, unless they’re willing to consider him a civilian contractor, that’s not gonna happen,” Edward growled low in his throat, his stance shifting to cover Alphonse. “I’m the only one who needs to be on a leash, they can just trot off and leave my baby brother alone.”

“Edward,” Alphonse said reprovingly.

Maes laughed. “Let’s head home, before Gracia starts to wonder what’s become of us as well.”

With Alphonse with them now, Edward chose to drop back and walk beside his brother. However, they both followed Maes closely, chattering about some new alchemical concept with which Maes was not familiar at all in something resembling code.

Or perhaps it was just the way Ed and Al tended to finish each other’s sentences. He and Gracia finished each other’s sentences sometimes now, too. It was just what happened when you knew someone that well.

They headed toward the Hughes residence, only stopping for Ed to buy a red balloon from a street vendor.

“It’s for Elicia,” he commented.

Maes couldn’t help but _awwwww_. “That’s so kind of you, Ed!”

Edward shrugged, a little embarrassed by the attention. “You know, right now they fill these things with hydrogen, but as soon as they can figure out a way to transmute or isolate it, they’ll want to change to helium since it’s non-combustible.”

“How exactly would you transmute it?” Maes asked. “Actually, what would you transmute it _from_?”

Edward raised his hands as if preparing to clap, but he dropped them back to his sides at the last minute. Maes noted the gesture with interest.

“It’s easier to transmute lighter elements from heavier ones, but you can go the other way too,” Edward remarked. “Any half-decent alchemist can transmute gold from lead.” He gestured absently at Maes. “You work in investigations; it’s you guys who track down counterfeiters, right?”

Maes nodded, letting Edward continue.

“All you need to begin with is something with protons and neutrons. And electrons, but they bounce around just fine, so normally they tell us to ignore the electrons, which, incidentally, is where some of the discharge—the ‘lightning’—comes from—electrons getting stripped from whatever’s being transmuted. Most hydrogen only has a proton, but deuterium—which is an isotope—has a neutron as well. So you can either smash together two deuterium atoms or split something else for two protons and two neutrons, and then you’ve got helium.”

Ed stopped talking momentarily to take a deep breath. “Of course, most alchemists don’t like working with gases because of the variables involved. Most aren’t comfortable working with stuff that’s not in a locked configuration like solids are, which is why people who specialize in water—like that state alchemist who disappeared after the Ishval conflict—are so few and far between. They don’t like the gaseous state. First you gotta pin down your molecules before you can take the atomic scalpel to ‘em. Even moving them around requires absurd control. Which is why they’re probably gonna have to either figure out how to synthesize or isolate it industrially. Also, Colonel Bastard is insane and one day I’m gonna find out how he makes it look so easy. Jerk.” The last word was added almost in an undertone, the insults more genial than irate. Edward’s eyes sparked with curiosity and determination to face the challenge. Maes made a mental note to inform Roy about Edward’s insatiable curiosity, while knowing that he’d have to cushion his words carefully to keep Roy from snapping at the younger alchemist. Edward was more interested in the theory behind flame alchemy than the use of it, and more annoyed by Roy’s over-the-top application of flame alchemy than anything else. Edward craved knowledge more deeply than most kids craved sweets.

“Roy has his reasons for not wanting to pass on flame alchemy,” Maes said.

Edward waved his hand dismissively. “I know, I know. It’s dangerous ‘n stuff. I just want to know how he does it, he _has_ to be cheating somehow.”

Maes couldn’t really help it. He threw back his head and laughed.

Edward’s tiny smirk said he’d known exactly what he was doing.

“Imp,” Maes said fondly, pushing Edward toward the house. Edward broke into a run, cackling all the way, the balloon bobbing madly and zigzagging after him.

* * *

Somehow, the impertinent brat didn’t even look winded when Maes and Al caught up to him at the Hughes family’s front door. Gracia opened it. “Hello, dear—”

She was interrupted by a loud squeal and a startled squeak from Ed as Elicia ploughed into his legs, nearly knocking him over. “Big brother! Big brother’s here!” She squeezed furiously at Ed’s knees in a ferocious hug. Edward was struggling to keep his balance; Maes grabbed his shoulders and steadied him.

“Elicia, dear, can you let Ed come inside first?”

“Okay, Daddy!” The toddler bounced back inside their apartment.

It was an odd dance to perform: Ed slipping into the living room and dropping to one knee to properly hug Elicia (who patted him several times on the automail shoulder and bursting into delighted giggles, while Al shuffled carefully passed Gracia and Maes closed the door behind him. Their apartment would be too small for a family any larger than theirs. Right now, though, it was a home to more than just Maes, his wife and his biological child.

Elicia was now repeatedly patting the stray exclamation point of hair that pointed directly skyward, giggling as it bounced. Edward was on one knee, half crouched as Elicia’s chubby hand accidentally swatted his face several times. He seemed unsure whether it would be appropriate for him to rise and thereby avoid more of Elicia’s attentions. Maes chuckled and turned toward the mantelpiece to retrieve his camera.

It wasn’t just Edward’s cowlick that attracted Elicia’s excited attention—she tugged gently on the end of Ed’s braid. “You have a crown already,” she pouted. “How can you play princess?”

Edward swallowed. “It just makes it easier to play princess?” he offered.

Elicia patted his bangs. “Pretty,” she declared.

“Supper is on the table.” Gracia ducked into the kitchen momentarily and set the hot potatoes on the dining room table. “Come eat!” she called.

Elicia bounced through the dining room door, Edward half-hunched as she tugged him along by his automail hand, without any concern that it was cold and hard to touch. There really was nothing that Elicia was afraid of, which was both a good and a bad thing.

Elicia insisted on sitting between her two “big brothers.” She tried to help push in Al’s chair for him before Ed scooped her up and buckled her into the booster seat. Elicia wouldn’t let go of his arm for a few seconds after, hugging it against her chest.

“May I have my arm back, please?” Edward asked gravely. Elicia let out a mischievous giggle and released his arm. Edward bowed slightly, careful to keep his hair just out of reach of small grabby fingers. “Thank you.” He sat down. Maes hid the camera under the table just in time. Thank goodness for these new, quieter shutters.

Gracia served the meal and Edward helped Elicia cut up her meat. Some of her food would inevitably end up on the tablecloth; that’s why Maes had made sure to buy the machine-washable ones. A wealthy family using display pieces without ever damaging them they were not. Everything had to hold up to a toddler’s energy and delightful, adorable mess.

Al picked up Elicia’s fork for her, imitating the sound of a train whistle. “The train’s coming in to the station! Clear the track!”

Elicia gave him a deeply confused look. Maes laughed.

“He’s pretending the food is a train, El,” Ed explained. “And your mouth is the station.”

“It’s notta train,” Elicia protested. “Just a foak!”

“Fork?” Ed guessed, the faint trace of his country accent tugging at the ‘r’.

“Fooh-ooooh-oak!” Elicia imitated, giggling.

“Choo choo!” Al steered the food into her mouth. Elicia nearly spit it back out, she was laughing so hard. Maes made sure to document this (darling) moment as well.

“So,” Edward said, turning to Alphonse, “I was thinking we phone Mustang and let him know that we’re going to be here for a few days more, helping out the Lieutenant Colonel.”

“Are you sure?” Alphonse asked. “We’ve kind of exhausted the National Library Second Branch—”

“And you’re not allowed to enter the First Branch with me without written permission from the head of the state alchemist program,” Edward sighed. “Yeah, I remember.” He prodded moodily at his food. “Still. Taking a break from research for a few days couldn’t hurt.”

Maes tried not to grin. “I’m touched you’re taking an interest in my cases, Ed.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed mumbled, moving the pot roast around on his plate, “it’s nice to get away from Mustang for a while. Besides, alchemy’s supposed to be for the people, not personal gain.”

“Yet alchemists still code their work?” Gracia asked.

“Most alchemists prefer to trust their life’s work only to an apprentice who they’ve known for a few years,” Edward said. “Our teacher was the exception to that. She taught us her discoveries up front—which I’m grateful for, we wouldn’t be half the alchemists we are today if not for her work.” He speared a carrot with his fork. “Course, Master Izumi has more of a community focus? She’s less of a researcher, more practical application. So of course her first goal would be to make me and Al better practical alchemists.”

“There’s a difference?” Gracia asked.

Ed nodded. “Yeah. There are a lot of state alchemists who no one but other alchemists has ever heard of because they’re primarily researchers and they work in labs. There’s also people like Armstrong, who do field work. I kind of do both? I take missions, but I also do research.” He sipped at his water glass. “But anyway, Amestris is kind of backwards in how innovations work through the community with alchemists. The information is passed on to the next generation, sure, but laterally? It doesn’t circulate much, if at all. Research journals are woefully bare as a result, and who knows how much further we could’ve advanced the science if we were all sharing?”

“What do you research?” Maes asked.

Edward shifted food around on his plate. “Mostly I work on developing simpler, more effective ways of performing common transmutations. Mustang says I’m the only alchemist in the military who focuses on making things simpler, not more complex. How is he so good at backhanded insults?”

“Practice,” Maes said. “And more than a decade in the military.”

Edward shook his head. “No wonder he’s crazy.”

“Edward,” Maes said reprovingly, though he couldn’t help laughing.

“So you’re not planning on being a career soldier?” Gracia asked.

“Soon as we find what we’re looking for, we’re out,” Edward said, reaching around Elicia to rap his automail knuckles on his brother’s armor. “Enough about alchemy, though. What about you, El?”

“I drew Daddy a picture!” Elicia announced proudly. Her face fell. “I didn’t draw you one, though, big brother…”

“It’s okay. You can draw one for next time I come visit,” Edward said encouragingly.

Elicia nodded excitedly. “Ok!” She bounced up and down in her booster. “When dinner’s over will you read to me?”

Ed smiled, nodding. “Sure.”

* * *

Two hours later, when dinner had long since been cleared away and the dishes washed, Maes wandered into Elicia’s playroom to find a castle constructed of pillows and blankets and two blond heads close together in the midst of it. Edward’s long, shining hair had been pulled into messy pigtails—about the most complex hair style Elicia was capable of doing yet, but highly impressive for a two-year-old—which were tied off with Elicia’s bobbled ties, while Elicia’s dirty blond hair, so much like Gracia’s, had been neatly braided and tied off with Edward’s hair tie. They were both fast asleep, Edward’s arm around Elicia and her head pillowed on his flesh shoulder. Ed’s right hand rested on his stomach, rucking up his shirt.

Maes tiptoed to retrieve the camera as quietly as he could and took one last photograph for the day. He didn’t have nearly enough pictures of his boys, but that was an easy thing to remedy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to vaire_the_weaver for the ideas! I'd been meaning to write more parental Maes stuff.


End file.
